Dreams Of Tuscany

Serena threw in a beach ball and then jumped in to join the fun. They began a crazy game of water polo based on no rules at all. Massimo threw the ball to Paolo and Zoe jumped high in the air and intercepted it. She held the ball a moment, looking around her at the happy faces of the children and the handsome, strong Italian faces of the adults. She punched the ball high into the air between them all and laughed as they all lunged and splashed to try to catch it. She felt a surge of grateful happiness – thankful for her good friends and their good intentions and not lonely at all.

At 7.30pm, Zoe was standing in her bedroom hurriedly drying her long hair. She looked into the mirror as she flicked the hair dryer around her head. Her silky hair flew madly into the air and Zoe tried unsuccessfully to tame it with a brush. Her skin had a new layer of tan from the afternoon in the pool and Zoe switched off the dryer and began to liberally apply after-sun cream. The house seemed strangely empty without Fidele padding around. The dog had jumped into the jeep when Zoe started up the engine to leave the Santinis’ home. When Serena had called him back, he had looked at Zoe reproachfully. Zoe sighed – she missed him too. Paolo would take him to the office tomorrow so it wouldn’t be for long. She frowned at herself in the mirror. There it was again, that sad, silly face and here she was getting ready to go out for the evening. Not only that, she only had ten minutes left to get ready. She threw open her wardrobe doors and flipped through the hangers of clothes. Most of her outfits were for work. And what does that tell me, Zoe thought to herself. She knew she really had only one choice. Her silk Versace had to be it.

She had bought the dress for a friend’s wedding a few months ago, and had never worn it since. Now was definitely the time to give it a second airing. She took it carefully from the wardrobe where it hung in a dry cleaner’s plastic cover. Well, that was one useful habit she had learnt from her distant, elegant mother, she thought to herself, as she remembered her mother’s impeccable wardrobe of clothes and immaculately packed suitcases of holiday outfits. She slipped on the ice blue shift and fastened the halter neck with the distinctive diamante and blue crystal Versace Medusa head clasp. She carefully pulled up the long back zip which had a miniature Medusa head at the top and a small crystal bauble. Now for her shoes…there they were, wrapped in the original tissue, nestling side by side in the Miu Miu box. Perhaps I am a mummy’s girl too, she thought as she unwrapped the shoes. She held them in her hand a moment, so light she could hardly feel them. The high heels, widening at the end, and the delicate ankle straps were of the softest silver kid. The simple bar across the front of the foot was lightly embossed with silver snakeskin markings. She slipped them on with pleasure and looked down. No time for nail varnish and anyway she decided that her feet were so tanned that she rather approved of her pale, pearly toenails. Zoe went over to the mirror and critically examined the final effect. She wasn’t a vain girl but when the doorbell rang at precisely 8pm she turned from the mirror with an air of confident self-satisfaction.

The hour’s drive to Florence passed in an easy exchange of conversation. Zoe enjoyed the luxury of the fast car and Massimo drove well. As they approached the outskirts of the city Massimo asked her if she would mind if he just made a phone call. He pressed the number one on his pre-set car phone and Zoe had to look out the side window to hide her amusement as he began to speak.

‘Ciao, Mamma! Come stai? Sono in Firenze…si, si, va bene!’

The conversation continued for several minutes, though it was obvious that Massimo’s mother did most of the talking. Finally he pressed the ‘off’ button and the only sound was the smooth throb of the engine as they drove downhill towards the outskirts of Florence.

‘That was my mother!’ Massimo broke the silence, stating the obvious.

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe replied, unable to think of a better reply.

‘She worries if I don’t call her every evening now that I have moved away from Rome.’

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe heard herself repeat ridiculously.

‘And she told me she has sent my shirts.’

‘Your shirts?’ Zoe repeated, unable to hide her puzzlement.

‘Yes, Saturday she sends my shirts, washed and ironed.’

‘You mean she washes your shirts and irons them for you and posts them?’ Zoe began to feel she had lost the art of conversation.

‘Well, we use a courier service.’

‘Oh, of course – a courier service,’ Zoe repeated, as if that made complete sense.

‘She loves to do it! Sometimes she sends a lasagne she has made or…porchetta alla Romana. There is nothing like her cooking. Next time she sends food you must taste it!’

‘I’d love that,’ Zoe replied politely, trying not to laugh aloud at the mental picture of parcels of the mummy’s boy’s shirts and joints of pork and lasagne buzzing up and down Italy by special courier.

‘I only wear Valentino shirts and I buy them a dozen at a time.’

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe’s language skills had zeroed but fortunately, at that moment, Massimo drew into the courtyard of an elegant floodlit Florentine villa. Definitely not a rave in a barn then.

A uniformed doorman came hastily to meet them and opened Zoe’s door. Massimo tossed the car keys to the man who gave a little bow and went round to the driving seat. Zoe noticed Massimo slip a banknote neatly into the doorman’s top pocket, then he turned to Zoe and took her arm.

‘Have I already told you that you are beautiful, Zoe?’

‘Only four or five times, I think!’ Zoe rested lightly on his arm as they walked up the steps to the large doorway. Another liveried servant held the door open and said, ‘Benvenuti da Villa di Travino!’

‘Signorita Bennett e Signor Mendozzi,’ Massimo answered formally, and the man immediately ushered them through the spectacular marble hall and out onto a terrace. Zoe drew in her breath in amazement at the scene that greeted them. Lanterns twinkled against the dusky twilight sky and hundreds of guests, dazzling in glamour and sophistication, were spread out across the wide terrace and formal gardens Most amazing of all was the panorama of the city roofs of Florence, still golden from the last rays of the setting sun and outlined against the faraway blue-grey hills. Before she could say a word, a voice called out from amongst the guests.

‘Massimo…ciao, Massimo!’ A young Italian, almost a double of Massimo, came running to them and threw his arms around Massimo in a bear hug. They laughed and exchanged kisses before Massimo turned to Zoe.

‘Flavio, this is Zoe Bennett. May I introduce you to the most beautiful girl in the world…and the one I want to marry!’

Flavio turned to her in surprise and when she offered her hand he dropped his head low and kissed it.

‘Congratulations!’

‘Oh no, please, Massimo is just joking…really, we only met today! Pleased to meet you.’ Zoe tried to recover her equilibrium but Massimo was still talking.

‘It’s true – we only met today but my mind is made up! Marry me she must!’

‘Massimo, stop this nonsense!’ Zoe turned to Flavio for help. ‘Does he always introduce his new girlfriends like this?’ She laughed, anxious to make light of the whole thing.

Flavio shook his dark head. ‘I can honestly say that in all the time I have known Massimo, I have never heard him utter the word marriage before!’

‘You can be my witness, Flavio, and use the evidence against me. I concede that I hadn’t actually had time to mention the matter to my prospective fiancée…but that is beside the point!’ Massimo laughed, his eyes shining.

‘Beside the point?’ Zoe repeated in mock amazement. ‘You could ruin my good name and I may have to sue you!’

‘Now that would probably be a mistake!’ smiled Flavio. ‘Our learned friend here, Dottore Massimo Mendozzi, has a formidable reputation for never having lost a case yet.’

‘Now, don’t embarrass me, Flavio. I have just been very lucky so far,’ Massimo replied.

‘I doubt luck comes into it all!’ Flavio turned to Zoe, his hand on Massimo’s shoulder. ‘This man is the new young star in environmental law.’

‘Environmental law – that must be an interesting and rewarding field to work in,’ Zoe replied seriously.

‘Believe me, Massimo is very well rewarded indeed!’ Flavio laughed.

‘Oh, I meant that saving the environment must have its own reward – not the money,’ Zoe said, slightly flustered. She looked down at her feet and wriggled her toes inside the silvery Miu Miu sandals.

‘Oh indeed, indeed. Massimo is just the man to save the world!’ Flavio slapped Massimo on the back, seeming to find the way the conversation had turned to be extremely amusing. Then he spoke more seriously and in a lower voice. ‘And, Massimo, we must get together early this week as the Valle dei Sogni project is roaring ahead.’

Zoe looked up quickly at the pair of them now talking together in rapid Italian, their dark heads close together. Had she really heard Flavio mention the Valle dei Sogni? She could hardly interrupt them to ask, and now Massimo was laughing again and raising his arms in mock resignation.

‘Enough, basta, Flavio! It’s your birthday and I refuse to think about work. Happy Birthday, buon compleanno!’

‘Grazie, grazie mille! You’re right – no more talk of work tonight but we must get together early in the week to meet with ENEL.’

‘I could manage a meeting Tuesday morning – let me know.’ Massimo turned to Zoe and added, ‘You see, my learned friend is a workaholic. If I give him half a chance he will never stop and the next thing I know we will be in a meeting over his birthday cake!’

‘You’re absolutely right – I rest my case but, by the way, Tuesday in my office at ten would be just fine!’

They all laughed and began to walk across the terrace towards the view. A waiter came over with a tray of champagne glasses glinting in the reflected light of the candles.

They each took a glass and raised them to each other but it was Massimo who made the toast.

‘To the beautiful girl of my dreams!’ he said, his large, brown eyes looking soulfully at Zoe. She sighed impatiently and for one moment felt a ridiculous desire to pour her champagne over his sleek head. Really, he’s looking at me just like Fidele, she thought to herself. She sipped the yeasty champagne and her thoughts fled for a moment to Fidele. Strange to think that the last two nights she had been alone with just a dog for company and now…she looked around…it was a wonderful night. The sun had now completely dropped behind the distant hills and the stars shone down out of a velvet, blue sky. It was a night to enjoy.

Massimo took Zoe’s hand and led her towards a noisy group of people, laughing and talking between the glowing lanterns. He introduced her to so many friends that she had soon lost count of their names. Everyone she met seemed to be fond of him and interested to meet her. They were mostly friends from his days at university and nearly all in the legal profession or politics. An influential, powerful band of intelligent young people who seemed to know how to work hard and obviously knew how to party. The food and wine, as was only to be expected at any event in Italy, were of the finest quality. The music came from a live band brought in from Rome. They seemed familiar with most of the guests and knew exactly what they wanted to dance to. Massimo was a great dancer and good company. He seemed to have forgotten his mad determination to marry her. Zoe soon forgot too and then she forgot work, loneliness, the derelict Villa Sognidoro and her fascination with Alex Knight. In her silvery Miu Miu shoes, she danced the night away.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Yes, it was a great evening!’ Zoe yawned and sipped her coffee, idly stroking Fidele’s large head as he sat at her feet. Paolo looked across the desk at her and raised his eyebrows.

‘If you not want to talk, Zoe, I understand. You not have to say a thing – not a thing!’

This was the third or fourth time that Paolo had interrupted their work and tried to find out exactly how her evening with Massimo had gone.

‘What can I say – Massimo is really nice, the party was fabulous – we had a great time!’ Zoe repeated, trying to put more emphasis into her words. Fortunately the phone rang before Paolo could ask for more details. Paolo held up his hand.

‘I take the call, Zoe…you finish your coffee!’

Zoe sighed with gratitude and leant back in her chair. It was all so true – it had been a magical night. The dancing had finally ended at three in the morning and Massimo had driven her back to Siena, music playing in the car as they were both too tired to talk. When he stopped the car outside her house there was silence for a moment and then he had taken her hand in his and kissed it lightly. The silence surrounded them and she knew he was waiting for her to ask him in for a coffee. She had lightly brushed his cheek with a goodnight kiss and told him she was very tired. He had agreed hurriedly and jumped out of the car to open her door for her. He stood close by her side as she unlocked her front door. Once more he had taken her hand in his and kissed it, raising his soulful brown eyes to her. She had again wished him goodnight and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He had stood obediently on the doorstep until she gently closed the door on him. Inside her house she had leant back against the door and listened to the noise of the throbbing Ferrari fade into the dawn. Zoe smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes. Massimo was every centimetre the wellbrought-up perfect gentleman. His Mamma would have been proud of him.

Zoe smiled now to herself as she finished her coffee. It was probably not the passionately torrid end to the evening that Paolo was waiting to hear about. Suddenly she realised that Paolo was still talking on the phone and not only that – he was talking to Alex Knight. She sat bolt upright in her chair and listened attentively.

‘Yes, I understand Mr. Knight, of course I’ll look into it straight away. I’m very glad you like the Villa Sognidoro… Yes, an enormous project but well worth the effort. A beautiful residence. Yes, I’ll get back to you later today or early tomorrow morning. Goodbye!’

Paolo replaced the phone on the hook and found Zoe looking at him with round eyes.

‘What is it, Zoe? You are surprised your Mr. Knight is going to buy the Villa Sognidoro?’

‘Yes…well, no…well… I don’t know!’ A hundred questions flew through her mind but at that moment a large grey security van drew up outside the office, darkening the room. The office door opened and the uniformed and armed driver came in with a large parcel.

‘Signorina Zoe Bennett?’ He held out the parcel and a clipboard. Zoe signed for the parcel and the man left as quickly as he had come.

Paolo came across and looked at the parcel and said, ‘Is very big parcel, Zoe!’ He obviously couldn’t wait for her to open it. Zoe began to tussle with the wrapping and Paolo came to her aid with a paper knife. Between them they opened the box and revealed a huge bouquet of roses. Paolo looked at Zoe in puzzlement.

‘I never see before the flowers coming by Securicor? Why not the florist? Is there a note?’

‘I can’t see one but I am sure they are from Massimo – he has a special arrangement with Securicor.’

Zoe began to giggle as she lifted the huge bouquet out of the box. The roses were the darkest red she had ever seen – almost black. They were tied with a wide, black velvet ribbon and there was a small envelope attached. Zoe opened it and read the card: ‘To the most beautiful girl in the world and the one I want to marry – with all my love, Massimo.’ Zoe giggled again and passed the card to Paolo. His eyes opened wide as he read it.

‘Zoe – this is madness! Is true you are a beautiful girl but how can he talk of marriage – he met you only yesterday!’

‘I know, I know…’ Zoe shook her head in disbelief. Her life had definitely gone into a spin. She gently fingered the dark velvety roses and studied the imitation drops of water on the petals. The flowers were beautiful in every way – almost too beautiful. She slowly untied the ribbon and then almost dropped the roses as she found she was holding a bracelet that had fallen from the ribbon. She looked at it resting in her hand, heavy and brightly glinting. She held it out to Paolo and he took it from her.

‘Zoe, I think is diamonds! I think this is why he use the Securicor!’

‘I think so too! Oh dear, what shall I do?’

‘What happened last night, Zoe…did you…?

Zoe turned to Paolo, her eyes flashing angrily.

‘Nothing happened – we danced at this wild party until about three and then Massimo drove me home – he gave me a kiss on the cheek, the merest peck, and he left!’

‘Peck…what is this peck?’ Massimo looked at her in alarm.

Zoe burst out laughing.

‘Sorry, Paolo, just another ridiculous idiom. A peck is the smallest of kisses…a nothing of a kiss, I assure you!’

Paolo relaxed and shrugged his shoulders.

‘OK, I understand…but why he talk of marriage and send this bracelet?’

‘He’s mad! It seems just like he’s not grown up and yet…according to all his friends, he is obviously a first-class lawyer.’

‘Certainly that – he has come to Siena to head up some sort of environmental council.’

‘That reminds me…last night I overheard him mention the Valle dei Sogni when he was talking with his friend Flavio.’

‘Valle dei Sogni? You sure?’

‘Well, I think so…yes, I’m sure I did. The Villa Sognidoro had been on my mind all day so I suppose I may have imagined it.’

The phone rang and interrupted their conversation and the day caught up with them. There wasn’t another moment to think about anything but work and more work. The heat was relentless and the office air-conditioning inadequate. By lunchtime they were both hungry, hot and tired. Paolo stood up from his desk and stretched.

‘Basta, enough, enough! If the phone rings again just don’t answer it. Why don’t you come back to the farm – have a swim and stay for lunch?’

Zoe looked at him gratefully.

‘Are you sure? Should you ring Serena first?’

‘Of course not – she’s always asking me to bring you up for lunch and maybe you ask her about what to do with the mad Massimo?’

‘That’s such a good idea, Paolo. Thanks so much.’

Zoe snatched up the diamond bracelet and bunch of flowers and, with Fidele trotting happily behind, followed Paolo out of the office.

Zoe floated on her back in the cool water of the Santinis’ pool and looked up at the deep blue sky. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t she just fall in love at first sight with Massimo Mendozzi?

Later over lunch it seemed that Serena had the same thought.

‘He really is a nice boy, you know! Good-looking, wellbrought-up, hard-working and so clever… He’s certainly heading for the top of the legal world. He sends you flowers and diamonds and proposes marriage… I’m not sure I see the problem. It’s like a dream!’

‘Exactly!’ said Zoe, ‘adream or a silly romantic love story. It’s just not real. He can have no idea that he truly wants to marry me. It’s just some crazy idea. Anyway – it’s just ridiculous. I have no intention of even going out with him again and certainly will never marry him!’

‘Then that is that!’ Paolo said with satisfaction. ‘Leave it to me, Zoe. I will take him the bracelet and tell him to give up before it begins.’

‘Would you? Oh, Paolo, would you really do that?’

‘No problem! Also I ask him about the Valle dei Sogni – I must begin official searches for Mr. Knight anyway. No worry – leave everything to me!’ Paolo slapped his hand enthusiastically on his own chest.

Serena looked across the table at Zoe and smiled, raising her shoulders in mock despair as she said, ‘Don’t overcook it, Paolo. Keep to the simple truth. Didn’t you tell that client, Mr. Knight, that Zoe was your wife last time you tried to help? You always complicate things with the best of intentions.’

Zoe took a deep breath. Should she tell her good friends how she felt about Alex Knight? How could she confess that she had fallen head over heels at first sight – especially as she had just scoffed at Massimo falling in love the same way with her. How could she manage to let Alex know that she definitely wasn’t Paolo’s wife or anyone else’s? Her head was spinning with unanswerable questions and the conversation was continuing without her.

‘…so Mr. Knight is coming back at the end of the week,’ Paolo was saying. ‘Zoe scared him, you know. He only wants to meet with me!’

‘Did he say that?’ Zoe asked in surprise. ‘Really, he only wants to deal with you? I thought we got on very well!’

‘I joking, Zoe!’ laughed Paolo. ‘We arranged to meet at the Villa on Friday. You can come along too…it may be a good help as I think he bringing his baby.’

‘Baby?’ Zoe’s eyes stretched in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’ Sometimes Paolo’s power of the English language left much to be desired. Had he suddenly lapsed into American film talk?

‘What I say – he bring his little girl, sua filia.’ Paolo pronounced the words with care. ‘He not say his wife but maybe she comes too. I not know…but is dangerous at the villa – such a ruin! Maybe you can help keep eyes on his daughter?’

‘His daughter?’ Zoe repeated the word and looked so dismayed that Serena leaned across the table towards her and said,‘Zoe, you are very interested in this Mr. Knight? Do I detect further romance in the air?’

‘No, no of course not. I’m just surprised that Alex…Mr. Knight didn’t mention his family. We had lunch at Luigi’s and…’ Zoe faltered to a stop and then continued on another tack. ‘And then he said he had to get back that night to England…but the next day, by chance, I saw him at the hotel where the Partridges are staying. I suppose I thought he had lied about that and…well, I don’t know…that he wasn’t a genuine buyer and that he was just wasting everyone’s time – roaming around Tuscany chasing some romantic dream.’

She looked up and found Serena and Paolo both looking at her with expressions she found hard to read. Zoe decided it was time to change the subject.

‘By the way, the Partridges have fallen in love with the mill house. They’ve asked me to find a notaio and to get going as fast as possible with the conveyancing.’

‘You tell me already, Zoe,’ said Paolo, frowning. ‘I think you changing of the subject!’

Sometimes Paolo was just too clever, thought Zoe to herself as she began to clear the dishes from the table. Serena stood up and together they carried the remains of the lunch into the kitchen. Paolo watched them, leaning back in his chair, and said, ‘Is a wonderful sight – two beautiful women going into the kitchen to work!’

Serena turned back to him and deftly tipped the water carafe over his head.

‘Now, go and have a swim and then make us some coffee!’ she said calmly as he leapt up, shaking himself like a dog.

The two women were still laughing as they stacked the dishwasher and put the remaining food in the refrigerator.

‘So – poor Massimo!’ Serena couldn’t resist returning to the subject. ‘He’s going to be disappointed. I’m not sure it won’t be the very first time that he won’t get what he wants!’

‘He certainly has the air of being rather a spoilt young man. Can you believe he actually sends his dirty shirts to his mother in Rome every week – she sends them back hand-laundered and accompanied with samples of home-cooking…by Securicor!’

‘No! It’s not true?’ Serena burst out laughing and collapsed onto a kitchen chair. ‘Well, I warned you he was un mammino, but I never could believe he was so much of a mummy’s boy.’

‘Oh – it’s mean to laugh at him, I suppose. We had a wonderful evening in Florence. His friends all love him…it’s just…’ Words failed her and she too sat at the kitchen table. Serena looked up at her, mopping the tears of laughter from her face with a tea towel.